


it's all in the mind

by 100hearteyes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clarke is clever determined and bi, F/F, Lexa is suspicious badass and gay, Not a lot of angst, Rating May Change, This will be short, a MONSTER truck mind you, any non-clexa romances are literally two lines long, damn what a life lesson, it's actually a lot of fluff, it's more about finding your value without needing to cheat, just a heads-up, some people are both, there's magic people and there's magicians, they're idiots basically, this was supposed to be for clexa halloween week but a truck didn't allow it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100hearteyes/pseuds/100hearteyes
Summary: "There are two types of frauds, Clarke. Those who pretend to be magical and those who pretend to be common. The first ones are fools, the latter are liars. My job is to expose both."--Clarke is a witch who pretends to be a street magician and dupes people with her tricks. Lexa exposes fraudulent magicians: both the ones who say they're magical and those who cover that fact. She's hired to investigate Clarke.





	1. glory

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for the final day of Clexa Halloween Week. Alas, I didn't have time to complete it then. Still, I really liked the story, so I decided to post it anyway. I hope you like it :)

Lexa is a skilled magician. She can guess cards, make them appear in people's shoes, all that jazz. The sleight of hand and diversion. She mastered all the traditional tricks a few years ago. Her favourite branch is card manipulation, but she's equally skilled in other variants. She has absorbed knowledge from all the great masters: Kostya Kemlin, Ricky Jay, Dai Vernon, David Blaine, Ed Marlo, amongst many others. Her favourite might just be Daniel Madison, though. A great backstory always makes an idol feel more accessible.

However, as she grew up, simple tricks soon weren't enough. She was always limited by what cards can do, where they can be, what they are; what she can reach, how she can hide, what she can do. Magic tricks, as fantastical as they are, can only go so far. She wanted to go further. So she started exploring her own hidden gift.

Lexa was seven years old when she realised that fire behaves differently with her than with everyone else. She was eight when she figured out that it responded to her will. She was nine when she accidentally burned her house down, with her parents inside. She was ten when she decided that she should not dwell on the grief and remorse, that her time would be better employed in mastering her skill so she would never use it by accident again. She was thirteen when she finally had full handle on her powers. She was fifteen when she discovered the amazing world of magic tricks. Doing magic without her powers — the ideal world. She was sixteen when she started performing in the streets. She was eighteen when she was elected most promising young magician.

She was twenty when she decided that tricks weren't enough.

There are two kinds of people in this world: magic and non-magic, also called nonners. A wizard can go their whole life thinking they are one of a kind. There is barely a magic community and it doesn't concern itself with looking for wizards and witches. If you find it, you either looked for it, you stumbled upon it, or you got in big trouble. There are magic parts of town, yet you need to be aware of them to know what they are. There is a court that writes laws and judges crimes, but most people go their whole lives without ever stepping inside it.

There are but two major rules:

  1. Never harm a non-magic person with magic;
  2. Never expose your kind to the non-magic world.



(You can use magic in front of nonners, as long as they don't figure out what it is; you can also have nonner confidants or close friends if you know they will not break your trust.)

If she could, Lexa would add a third rule: never profit off of non-magic people's ignorance. Which is what she once did and still deeply regrets.

Lexa was twenty years old when she decided that tricks weren't enough. She had been invited to a big magic conference, where many great magicians would evaluate young talent. David Copperfield himself would be there, for heaven's sake. Every attendant could perform only one trick. Lexa wanted to woo the audience with something unprecedented. Yet all her ideas were falling miserably short. Tricks weren't enough. One day, when she was frying some chicken wings with her own fire, she realised what she was missing.

Magic. Real magic. Something no one else could do and no one would notice. It would be so simple and so spectacular at the same time. It would be so easy to fool everyone. Temptation won. She devised a great magic trick interlaced with her powers, in order to create something unique.

Unique it was. However, as she was performing on stage, Lexa felt horrible, like she was cheating. Like she was taking advantage of nonners' ignorance. She was.

She performed it perfectly, without a hitch. She won the prize. Still, the moment the trophy was in her hands, she felt like throwing it away, unworthy of its meaning. She was not a magician. She was a fraud.

When asked when she would perform her amazing number again, she was peremptory: "Never."

In the crowd, she found attentive eyes that followed her afterwards. A burly man with a thick beard that fell almost down to his waist and broad shoulders that could carry a boar. She knew he knew and he did nothing to deny it. Gustus, she learned his name later, showed her the world she had never seen before. Whole parts of town, shops, people, creatures. A whole new world.

As she learned more about the magic world, the guiltier she felt about her one-time sham. She got a magical tattoo that would never let her forget what she had done — something that would never let her do it again. That day, she decided that her goal in life would be to unmask the frauds of the magicians' world, magic and not.

 

* * *

 

Clarke likes playing tricks on people. Card tricks, especially. Mind tricks. The typical guess your card tricks, yet taken much further. As far as she can go.

When her father, the best person she has ever known, fell ill with cancer, she realised that life doesn't bend to rules. Then why should she?

"Take a card. Any card."

The girl, a dirty blonde with sharp features, raises a sceptical eyebrow. Niylah, she remembers vaguely. "That's how you woo your lovers?"

"Only one at a time," Clarke winks. Niylah's smirk finally comes through and she picks a card from the deck. "Okay, good. Have you memorised it?"

Niylah nods and starts to hand back the card. "So this is when I put the card back in the deck and you shuffle in a special way so you can single out my card, right?"

"No, not really," Clarke smirks again, eyebrows raised in challenge.

Niylah's frown is delicious. "What do you mean? That's how magicians do it."

"Well, not me. I don't need to have your card in my hands to know what it is."

"So you're gonna guess it? Just like that?"

"Nope," Clarke grins, entirely too self-satisfied. "I already know what it is." As Niylah's eyes widen, Clarke finishes smoothly: "It's the four of hearts."

Niylah's eyes become saucers. "How- but you- I didn't- do you have cameras in my apartment?" she questions, looking around the room for hidden cameras.

"No cameras," Clarke promises, before giving up on trying to stifle a smirk. "I'm just really, really talented." Brown eyes brighten up, fire burning in them as their owner pulls Clarke in for an avid kiss. "I really feel like trying out that comfy couch you have, what do you say?"

Niylah brings her in for another fiery kiss, before biting her lower lip and whispering seductively: "You just read my mind."

 

* * *

 

"So," Octavia slumps on the couch next to her and regards her intently. "Have you thought about the competition?"

Clarke sighs, burying her face in her hands. "I don't know, Octavia. I'm a street magician, not a showman."

"You could be a rock-star!"

"I don't wanna be a rock-star," Clarke mutters demurely, face raised off her hands. "I just wanna help my dad."

Octavia lays both hands on Clarke’s knees and makes her turn, so they face each other fully. "The money you are making right now is not enough to save your dad. At least not as soon as he needs that help. This competition would get you more than halfway there, with much more time to spare."

"But what if—"

"No," Octavia cuts her off right away. "No one will know, because they won't be looking for it. Besides, I know you'll be careful."

"You know a lot of things I don't know," Clarke grumbles. She sighs when she sees Octavia's raised eyebrow. "Okay, fine. I'll do it. But it has to be planned down to a T. And I'm gonna need more than just your help."

She stands up and heads to the kitchen. She takes a beer from the fridge and opens it with the can opener Octavia hands her. She leans on the counter and sips on the cold, bitter liquid, then points the bottle at her friend.

"The fact that no one knows doesn't mean that no one could find out."

Octavia takes a glass from one of the cupboards and fills it with tap water. "God, I love water," she moans after gulping some of it down. "Don't worry, we'll help you plan it carefully. The whole gang doesn't know though."

"Well, then the whole gang should probably know. I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be too surprised."

"No shit," Octavia laughs. "Jasper legitimately thinks you're a time traveller."

Clarke gasps, feigning indignation. "I am so offended right now."

They keep drinking in silence, until Octavia makes a surprised sound.

"I see you still have a crush on Lexa what's-her-name."

"Newana," Clarke corrects with annoyance, turning to the newspaper print pinned to her fridge. "And it's not a crush. I just... I mean, Lexa is the best magician out there, in my opinion. She's positively brilliant. All of her original tricks are freaking masterpieces. But there's this one trick..." Clarke sighs, both awestruck and frustrated. "It's her Selbit's sawing a woman, or Houdin's light and heavy chest, or Copperfield's flying illusion, or Lafayette's lion's bride, or Houdini's water cell and strait jacket escape.”

"It's her Mona Lisa?" Octavia supplies, ending her rambling.

"Yes!” Clarke exclaims, with both hands stretched out at her friend. “That's exactly what it is, in every sense of the word. She only performed it once and always vehemently refuses to do it again. And you know, you might not know exactly how a new magic trick is done, but you understand the mechanics of it. That one, though? It's a fucking mystery. No one has figured it out yet."

"That doesn't explain why you have an article about her on your fridge. Besides the fact that she's fucking hot, of course," Octavia adds with a smirk.

Clarke regards the article and picture for a few long moments, before sighing wistfully. "It's there to remind me that no matter how much I tweak with my tricks, I'm a magician first and foremost. I still have a long way to go to get to Lexa's level. But I want to get there. And I want to figure out how she did that stupid trick."

 

* * *

 

"Behold! Next up is someone whose talent goes well beyond simple card manipulation. 'She read my mind', you might think after she has performed on this stage for the very first time. She’ll probably read that too. Rise for Clarke Griffin!"

Clarke climbs on stage and goes to stand at the centre, absentmindedly shuffling a deck of cards in her hands.

"I'm sure most of you, knowing that this obscure little contest even exists," she draws laughter from the crowd, "are magic enthusiasts. So I'm also pretty sure that you've all seen every kind of card trick performance out there. One thing that ties them all together is that, in order to work, they all need the cards, at some point during the performance, to be in the magician's hands.” The audience nods. “Well, tonight, you will see something different." She tosses the cards aside and pauses, letting the tension sparkle in the air. Fortunately, she bought that deck a week ago and the cards weren’t even cards anymore. "I bet most of you brought decks with you. Raise them, let me see them. Whoa, that's a lot of decks! Some of you even have three, and four, and- is that five? Okay, now that's just extra." That manages to grab a more than a few laughs from the audience. "What I want is for one of you to come here and lend me one of those awesome decks. Yes, you heard me. I'll be performing tricks with one of _your_ decks. And I won't touch it a single time. So who would like to volunteer?"

Many people do, of course, and Clarke has to randomly choose someone from the crowd. She chooses a floppy-haired guy, with a billion-dollar smile and a bad boy attitude (she might be working, but that doesn't mean she can't have some fun later).

"First of all, what's your name?" she asks, once he's standing beside her.

"Finn Collins."

"Okay, Finn. Where's your deck?" He conjures a deck and presents it to her. "Keep it with you, I don't want it. Now, you can shuffle if you want. That’s entirely up to you. All I need you to do is take a card and give it to someone else, without looking at it."

Finn chuckles and shuffles and picks a card, then presses it to his chest. He looks at the crowd and chooses a girl Clarke has never seen. She climbs on stage and stands next to him. He gives her the card.

"What's your name?" Clarke asks.

"Julie."

"Okay, Julie, please look at the card and don't show it to anyone else. Keep it in plain sight, always. No tricks. I will know if you do anything you shouldn't." The girl does as she asks. "Now, place it anywhere you want. Doesn't have to be on stage. Anywhere at all, as long as it's not on your person. We don't want any foul play here."

Julie walks off stage and towards some guy in the second line, someone she clearly knows. She tells him to stretch out his hand and lays the card on his palm.

"Cool," Clarke praises. "Now, choose someone to follow up." Julie picks someone from a few lines back. "Now you," Clarke tells the new person, "choose someone else, who will choose a fourth person."

Seconds later, she has the fourth person by Julie's friend (boyfriend, Clarke knows) and taking the card from his hand.

"Put it in the back pocket of your jeans and come up here. You too, Julie," Clarke guides the final girl. "Time for the final act of our show."

In front of her, she now has Finn, Julie, and the final girl. The boyfriend and the other two people remain in the crowd.

"Julie," she addresses first, "you are the only one who saw Finn's card, right?" The girl nods. "Tell me, did I touch it even once?" The girl shakes her head. " Did you show it to me?” Another shake. “Okay... Then how the hell do I know that it was a six of clubs?"

Julie's eyes widen and she nods enthusiastically. "That's the card!"

Clarke smiles proudly, basking in the satisfaction of yet another job well done. She's quick to recover, though, and to set her expression, channelling the anger she feels towards one member of the audience.

"Still, that is _not_ the card you'll find in--" she turns to the final girl. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Carla."

Clarke turns to Julie again. "The six of clubs is not the card you will find in Carla's pocket. Why, you ask? Because someone, along the way,” she turns to the crowd, “decided to be a jackass and thought it would be funny to switch the original card with one of their own. Or should I say... his own?" she hints, rising an eyebrow. Then she points at Julie's boyfriend. "You. Show us your deck. The one that looks exactly like Finn's."

He stares at her, startled, before someone hits him with an elbow and he finally shows his deck to the crowd, head hung in shame. It looks exactly like Finn's.

"There you go," Clarke states. "You see, Julie's boyfriend wanted to impress her. So while all of us were distracted, choosing other people to pass the card to, he decided that it would be a testament to his skill and cleverness to switch the card with one of his own." She throws a scathing glare at the man. "You should be ashamed, trying to sabotage a fellow magician's performance. I hope they kick you out."

With that, everyone starts booing the guy, trying to force him away from the crowd. He leaves of his own accord eventually, with two middle fingers at Clarke to boot.

"Never try to do what that guy did," Clarke tells the crowd. "You could ruin someone's career. And your girl won't be impressed. Now, Carla." She turns to the final girl, who still has the card in her back pocket. “I want you to take a look at your card, very quickly, and then hold it to your chest. Don't let anyone see the card, but keep it visible. I don't want any more funny business."

Carla does as she says, and Clarke watches the girl's face through it all. She breathes out in relief when she gets what she needs.

"Tell us, Carla. Is that card the six of clubs?" The girl shakes her head. "Just as I said," Clarke concludes, with a self-satisfied grin. "See, there's no use in trying to fool me, because I know everything. I _see_ everything. That's how I knew that Julie had picked the six of clubs. That's also how I knew that that jackass over there had switched the cards. And that's how I know that the card in Carla's hand is not the six of clubs, the one picked originally, but the card that Julie's boyfriend took from his own deck. The one and only, seven of hearts!"

Carla's eyes widen and she's quick to show everyone the card, seven hearts painting its front. The audience breaks into thunderous applause.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will be small, I'm tired of fics with a lot of chapters xD


	2. the great pretender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anya drapes one leg over the other, so she's facing Lexa. "Clarke Griffin, street magician. Her performance was going without a hitch until a guy from the crowd tried to sabotage it. The trick was already damn near impossible, but that set off all alarms."

Lexa lives in a picturesque little studio apartment in the historical part of Alexandria, Virginia (which has earned her a lot of teasing). It's small, it's comfortable, it's an organised chaos. It's decorated with items she found or raised money for over the years, when she was much, much younger. She wouldn't want it any other way.

There's a living space with two couches and a small round table on a dark green rug. Next to the arm of the larger couch, another small table, taller but narrower, on which a probably needlessly complex candleholder sits (Anya likes to call it 'the lesbian candles'). A large window stretches up behind the couches, lighting the whole room. To the side, her bed stands proud and masterfully crafted on a patterned beige rug, several mismatched blankets laid out on it. Behind it hides a corridor that leads to the bathroom. On the opposite side of the living space, there is a small kitchen with only the bare necessities, hidden behind a beautiful folding screen. A faux bear fur rug spreads out at the entrance of the room, slightly overlapping with the green one. There are candleholders everywhere. Patterned metal spheres hanging from ceiling, small tables, even a waist-high shelf full of them. Anya teases her, but the electricity bill at the end of the month is all the validation Lexa needs. Besides, she loves candles.

Lexa knows she has more than enough money for much newer, larger, better than the apartment she has, but she doesn't see the need in buying that just for the luxury of it. No, she's happy with what she has. She doesn't need newer, larger, better.

She does need a new dinner table, though, because just as she's appreciating the quaint, cosy beauty of her apartment, a loud crack fills the room and Anya falls gracelessly on a table, breaking it in two. Great. Breaking the tea table last time out wasn't enough.

She does wish she had a camera ready to film these moments, because it would be great leverage on Anya.

Anya, who groans and rubs her sore backside a moment later. Yes, Lexa would really like to have a camera within reach right now.

"God, why did you move your table?" Anya complains as she stands on lanky legs.

"I didn't," Lexa replies calmly. "You miscalculated."

"Yeah, I was probably thinking of a more modern apartment." Lexa suppresses an eye roll. "Anyway, you're gonna have to get a new table. Oops." When Lexa raises an eyebrow, Anya rolls her eyes. "Fine, I'll give you half. Okay, okay, I'll buy you a new one," Anya concedes, raising her hands in surrender. "I'd never know you're a fucking millionaire if I hadn't seen the numbers on your bank account."

Lexa heads to the kitchen and doesn't need to hear the sound of footsteps behind her to know that Anya has followed her.

"Having a lot of money doesn't mean I have to spend it," she states, getting a corkscrew from a drawer and using it to open the bottle standing on the counter. "You never know what tomorrow brings."

"You're the best magician in the world, Lexa. Their words, not mine. I'd say you're subpar. But people love you."

"Until I do something they don't like," argues Lexa, as she pulls out the cork and starts pouring wine into a glass. "The public is volatile and unpredictable. Not to mention highly prone to suggestion. Want some?"

"You know me."

"Get a glass from the cupboard, then. The one on the far right."

Anya gets her glass and Lexa fills it with wine. They lean their backs on the counter and sip in comfortable silence, until Lexa speaks up.

"Surely you didn't come here to denigrate my home. Even you have better things to do."

"Funny," Anya says dryly and kicks her lightly on the calf. "But surprisingly right. I have a job for you."

That catches Lexa's attention. She straightens and looks at Anya with a raised eyebrow. "A job? Will you pay me?"

"Think of it as pro bono."

"You mean pro sclavus."

"No, I mean you'll be doing it voluntarily and without payment, out of the kindness of your heart. It's pretty much for the public good, if we're being honest."

Lexa pushes off the counter and leaves her glass on it. She heads for the couch and sits down, in front of the laptop she then opens. Anya is next to her in seconds, glass still in hand.

"Tell me the details."

Anya drapes one leg over the other, so she's facing Lexa. "Clarke Griffin, street magician. Her performance was going without a hitch until a guy from the crowd tried to sabotage it. The trick was already damn near impossible, but that set off all alarms. I've got-- wait a second." Anya searches her pockets and pulls out a USB stick. "There's video there. We film every performance."

Lexa takes the stick and inserts it in her computer. Soon the video starts playing and Lexa makes a quick assessment of the blonde magician on screen.

She's beautiful, charismatic, and a good solo performer. The performance itself is well crafted and the trick is intriguing. The girl commands the attention of the public like few others. When the idiot tries to ruin her performance, Clarke steamrolls over it and makes the best out of a tough situation.

"That was a great performance. She's good."

"Yeah. Too good, perhaps."

Lexa leans back on the cushions, arms crossed, pondering Clarke's case.

"You think she's a fraud."

"I'm pretty sure. There's a lot of things there that give me that itchy feeling." Lexa raises her hand to scratch behind her friend's ear, but it's promptly swatted away. "Stop that."

Lexa smirks, before shifting her focus back to Clarke Griffin.

"The Julie girl could be an aide."

"True, but I find it unlikely that Julie's own boyfriend would want to sabotage a performance she takes part in."

"He could be an assistant, as well."

"I would believe that too if Clarke hadn't come to us asking for the guy to be expelled from the festival and saying she'd file a restraining order against him."

"You ought to have verified that."

"I did. Indra confirmed it."

Lexa hums, impressed. "I have three questions for this... Clarke." She speaks slowly, still mulling over her words. "One, how did she know that Julie's boyfriend tried to sabotage her?"

"Could've been an assistant in the public," Anya offers.

Lexa nods her agreement. "Two, if she didn't know Julie, how did she know what the card was?"

"That's one of the things that made me suspicious right away. She doesn't touch the deck or the card during the whole performance."

"Could have been Finn, he could be her assistant," she suggests.

"True."

"Besides, even if he's not her assistant, she mixed mentalism with the cards. I would go so far as to say that the cards are a mere prop. Her specialty is mentalism."

Anya hums. "So what's the third question?"

"The one that neither mentalism nor an assistant can explain. It also dispels the possibility of Julie's boyfriend being an aide," Lexa muses. "Why does she need the last girl, Carla, to see the card? If he was colluding with her, he would have told her what the card was and she wouldn't need Carla to look at it. Yet the moment she does," Lexa snaps her fingers, "Clarke has her answer."

"You think she's a mind reader?"

Lexa stands up and steps behind the small centre table, starting a slow pace. "Within the illogical reality of actual magic, that would be the most logical solution."

Anya leans back on the couch, surprise etched on her face. "That would explain a lot." She stands up abruptly and heads to the centre of the living room. "I'm kicking her out."

Just as Anya is starting to take the spin, Lexa grabs her wrist and stops her. "Wait! You need to prove it. If you just kick her out without a good reason, she will sue you. And she will win, because it's not like you can say she cheated with magic."

Anya huffs in frustration. "You know I need you for that."

Lexa releases her hold on Anya's wrist carefully, regarding her with calculating eyes. "That was your plan all along."

Anya rolls her eyes ostensibly. "You got me, Sherlock."

"I prefer Poirot."

"Same difference." Before Lexa can argue, Anya makes her offer: "Pack your bags and get back here in ten minutes. I'm taking you to Paris."

 

* * *

 

 

When they materialise in Anya's office, it takes a few seconds for the rippling feeling in Lexa's body to disappear. Anya has told her that those who teleport don't feel it, that it's an aftereffect of riding shotgun. It's not an uncomfortable feeling, though, so Lexa doesn't mind.

They leave the office and cross a couple of halls before Anya opens a door, letting the sunlight burst in and opening way to a magnificent field full of green and people.

"Welcome to the Prairie du Triangle, stage to our contest."

They go for a stroll around the prairie and as Lexa admires the view, Anya explains the format of the competition.

"We have fifty kids. They perform over the span of five days, ten each. It starts on Monday and ends on Friday. Then the jury, myself included, has a week to cut the group down to twenty. The decision is announced on Friday. The semi-finals take place on Saturday, with ten kids, and on Sunday, with the other ten going onstage. The jury takes five days to decide who goes to the finals and during that period the contestants must prepare two tricks. The ten finalists are announced on Friday, so the finals start on Saturday. They all perform and each member of the jury gives them a score from zero to ten. The five kids with the greatest combined scores get to perform on Sunday, the great final. This time, the jury's scores are combined with the public vote and we announce the winner at the end of the festival. It's all very straightforward."

"So you have the contestants prepare tricks they might never get to perform," Lexa concludes.

Anya can't hold a wide smirk. "It's my special brand of cruelty."

"And I suppose this Clarke Griffin is on the top twenty."

"Hell, she's on the top five. She might even win. That's why we ought to make sure that if she wins, she wins fairly." Anya's tone gains a grave quality, the one she deserves for really serious situations. "This contest helps a lot of kids. Eighty per cent of the winners either become stars or manage to get a better life. I don't want to give that chance to someone who doesn't deserve it."

Lexa nods in understanding. Despite her hardened, sarcastic exterior, Anya is a great person who strives to help people have another chance at life. Lexa won't let anyone get in the way of that.

"We need a plan," she says finally. "Something that won't make them too cautious."

"Actually, why not be obvious about it? One interrogation, no results to show. She'll get cocky if she thinks she's off the hook."

"And cocky means careless."

"Exactly. You'll have her before she can say yes to that lord guy."

Lexa frowns. "Say yes to what?"

"Some aristocrat. He asked her to marry him. They spent one night together and he started going off about soulmates and destiny shit, and gave her a ring. She hasn't said no."

"That is insane."

"Hence being the talk of the town."

They come to a stop back at the door. Lexa rests her hand on the knob and turns to look at Anya. "She's either desperate for money or desperate for fame. We should play with that."

 

* * *

 

 

When all fifty competitors are called by the organisation for "some regulatory tests", Clarke finds it a bit strange. When she's told to wait in a narrow, dark hallway with the other 49 contestants, she finds it very strange. One by one they go inside and come out either shaking, crying, or white as a sheet. One or two come out almost smiling, though, so Clarke guesses whatever is behind the door can't be so bad after all.

Eventually the last person comes out and she doesn't need them to tell her it's her turn to know that it is. She stands on shaking legs and takes a deep breath to thwart the nerves. Her hands become steady and she approaches the door.

It's not at all what she expected.

She opens the door and her eyes find a table at the centre of the room. Behind it, sits a beautiful girl, with eyes like gemstones, watching her inscrutably, and pouty lips set in a neutral line. Everything about her speaks authority and emotionlessness, and foretells that this will be a long, strenuous interrogation.

It's Lexa fucking Newana.

Clarke sits down on the chair across from the girl and tries not to cower under the heavy gaze.

"So." Lexa's voice is quiet, calm, perfectly controlled. Almost a whisper, but overwhelmingly audible. This is a woman that doesn't have to raise her voice to be heard by all. "You're the one that the jury places so much hope on."

Clarke tries to remain as neutral as possible, even under piercing green eyes. "Guess you're here to make sure I'm not cheating."

Lexa looks at her with stoic intensity for long seconds, gaze never straying from Clarke's. Suddenly she lowers her gaze to her papers, as though she didn't just engage in a stare-off with Clarke. Or rather, like instead of losing said stare-off, she just chose not to participate in it any longer. Clarke certainly doesn't feel like she won it.

"My name is Lexa Newa--"

"I know," Clarke blurts. Those stunning green eyes come back up to meet hers, an eyebrow rising at the extemporaneous intervention. "Sorry. Please continue."

Lexa returns her focus to the papers in her hand.

"Clarke Abigail Griffin, born on the 20th of September 1991, to Jacob Douglas Griffin and Abigail Jane Griffin." Lexa looks up at her again. "Is that correct?"

Clarke nods, still feeling too much out of her depth to give a proper reply. When Lexa looks back to the paper, she chances a look at them, but can only see the day. Tuesday. She remembers that she should be practicing her next number instead of being here, stuck in a room with a magician that sounds and looks more like a ruthless interrogator.

It's kinda hot.

Lexa stops whatever she's writing and lays her hands on the papers, one over the other, creating a right angle with her arms, the torso between them. Lexa shifts her attention back to Clarke.

"I am going to ask you a few questions. Most will be yes or no, others will require you to give longer answers. Are you ready?"

Clarke steels herself and puts on the bravest face she has. "Yes."

Lexa nods. "You wrote in your file that your specialities are mentalism and card manipulation. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. Have you ever experienced any phenomena you cannot explain?"

"No."

"Do you believe in real magic?"

Clarke frowns. "No?"

"Don't ask me, Miss Griffin. You're the one who is supposed to answer that."

"Well, you're the one making weird questions," she argues.

Lexa remains perfectly impassive. "Yes or no, Miss Griffin."

She frowns and, for the first time, opens her mind to Lexa's thoughts.

She hears nothing. She sees nothing. She reads nothing. It's like the magician's mind is an impenetrable fortress.

She puts more force behind her charge, but still nothing. When she focuses back on Lexa herself, the girl has an eyebrow raised.

When Lexa talks next, it's slow, measured, almost a smirk of a question: "Yes or no, Miss Griffin?"

"No."

So soon in the game and her head is already starting to hurt. Doesn't help that she's apparently unable to read Lexa's mind. This will be a bigger challenge than she thought. It's time to bring her A-game.

"Would you say that there is any element of real magic to what you do?"

"No."

"Do you think that real magic could actually exist without our knowledge?"

Clarke leans back in her chair, one leg draped over the other, arms crossed. "I never got that letter from Hogwarts, so no."

She can see Lexa's eyebrow twitch. "This is not a joke, Miss Griffin."

"It's hard not to take it as one when you're asking those ridiculous questions."

Lexa's chest expands with a deep breath and her hands clench into fists, before unclenching and entwining their fingers.

"We have rules, Miss Griffin. As silly as they may seem, these questions exist for a reason. So. Do you believe in magic?" Lexa asks, more firmly now.

Clarke leans forward in her chair, arms and legs still crossed, what she hopes is defiance on her face. "No. What are you gonna ask next, if I believe in Santa Claus?"

She can see Lexa trying to suppress an eye roll. Surprisingly, the girl doesn't fail. Clarke would've.

"Why do you insist on taking this like a joke?"

Two answers pop up in her mind: 'because I am magic' and 'because I can't read your damn mind'. Instead, she laughs bitingly.

"Because they're stupid. We're here to perform magic tricks, not to fly on magic carpets and sing 'A Whole New World'."

"And I'm here to make sure that you know that," Lexa argues.

Clarke raises her hands in exasperation. "Well, I do. Can we move on now?"

She can almost see Lexa's eye twitch in fury. After long seconds of neutral yet scary regarding, Lexa splays her hands on the table.

"That would be all, thank you," Lexa dismisses with shocking indifference. "You can leave now."

Clarke can't hold in a snort as she stands up. "That wasn't so hard. I don't understand why most people got out of here in tears."

Lexa's raised eyebrow is starting to become seriously annoying. "Well, we both know you are not like most people."

Clarke's hand stops on the back of the chair. She narrows her eyes at Lexa, trying to decide if that was a compliment or an insinuation. It sounded like both.

Finally, she decides she shouldn't give Lexa even more reason to be wary of her, so she turns around and walks out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will have to wait a bit so I can update the break upper next.


End file.
